We should giggle more.
I was driving our two-year-old daughter, Joker1, home from daycare the other day, and out of nowhere, she blew a raspberry and started giggling uncontrollably. She then paused for a moment, and did it again.
Raspberry. Giggles. Pause. Raspberry. Giggles. Pause. Raspberry. Giggles.
Over and over again, she kept repeating this process, and me, being a person who looks for reason and logic in all situations, decided to ask this toddler why she was doing that. Her response?
I’m not sure what I expected.
After a few more rounds of this, she started forcing the laughs more, which made it sound like she was an old lady with emphysema, at which point I couldn’t contain my own laughter any longer.
I started giggling.
Laughter is one thing, but I think a giggle is a different thing entirely. You laugh at a joke, but you can giggle at something that isn’t actually all that funny, until it is. A laugh can arrive and depart in a moment or two. A giggle builds on itself, and after a few seconds, the giggle is constant and growing, taking control of your body, prompting snorts and tears and doubling over, gasps for air and aches in your face. It’s a blast of dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins that replaces cortisol in your bloodstream and lowers stress without any effort on your part. At some point, you might have even forgotten the specific thing that brought on the giggle in the first place, but you continue to giggle despite it. It’s an all-consuming time of delight and joy.
When a child has a case of the giggles in public, passersby will likely smile, thinking or even saying something to the effect of, “how cute!” But if you, as an adult, were to begin giggling in public, how many people would give a concerned scowl? If you saw an adult giggling uncontrollably, would you think “how cute!” or would you think “what’s going on with them?”
I know kids can do lots of things in public that adults cannot - eat messily, stare at strangers, fart - but at what age does giggling become an unacceptable social practice? Is it something we learn through observing the behaviors of others when a giggle session breaks out? Do we notice the furrowed brows and hushed whispers, the fingers pushed to lips in calls to shush any noise perceived to be excessive, and are those actions perceived to be in opposition to expressions of joy outside of giggling?
Or do we see a lack of giggles from adults in our lives and assume this means either we should no longer giggle, or worse, that there aren’t things deserving of a giggle when we get older?
As a parent, I try to model good behavior as much as possible. Saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ holding doors for others, smiling and nodding to people who walk past. I want my kids to have good manners, to be kind, to respect others and themselves. But how often have I displayed how to revel in moments of amusement? When we’re in public, do I quiet myself when I find something hilarious, or do I embrace the frivolity? Do I feel the need to explain or justify a cheerful reaction to a mundane situation, does every smile require logic and reason to support it?
While I try not to take things too seriously, I know I don’t always meet that goal. Life can and will be hard at times, especially as the kids grow up. There will be situations where a serious demeanor is needed, where stoicism should win out over silliness. But that’s all the more reason to allow the silliness to shine through when it can.
I don’t know if giggling now will make future hard times easier, but I do know holding in the giggles won’t make the present better. And making sure my kids know that goofiness is okay and giggling is acceptable as they age will hopefully allow them to comfortably continue exhibiting those behaviors, even in social situations where they’re not currently as tolerable for adults.
Perhaps I can embrace those moments, allow myself more levity, and bring on the endorphins. Maybe we should all giggle more.
A pseudonym selected because she’s an agent of chaos who likes to push buttons at every opportunity.